Once In A Full Moon
by javelinconquest
Summary: A short, sweet returning story. I'm offandon back!


Disclaimer: Jareth or any characters copyright of Jim Henson do not belong to me and are property of Henson studios. Enjoy!

By the by, this is NOT strictly Jareth/Sarah. This is what you make it to be. You never know, it could be someone you know. wink

Once In A Full Moon

The moon that night lit her small room faintly. Faint was enough. Enough to see, and enough for the night. Full moons worked nicely. He preferred to come on a full moon, it entreated his entrance to the Aboveground easier than that of when the moon was not full. Even more than that, though, he preferred how it made her look. Against her skin, the streams of pale blue-ish ivory made it glow, like magic. Of course, he was all too well accustomed to magic, being a creature of it himself. But with her, it was a different magic. A foreign magic he decided unto himself that only she could possess. Yes, only she, and no one else. He could be sure of that, he told himself.

Jareth's heart was still swollen, much like his pride, in that he wouldn't speak to her, wouldn't answer her calls. He wanted to, but stubborn as he was, he would not. Instead he would visit unbeknownst to her, in his familiar, and watch as she slept. If he were to speak with her he knew that the agonizing sting would ravage his soul again, just as it did once he realized she was loosing faith at a terrible velocity.

During the time of her belief's downfall, he was becoming gaunt and weak. As time passed back at the castle, his mood was swiftly growing worse. The goblins trembled at his presence, cowardly ones scampered away as fast as possible when word was heard of his coming. They weren't as lively as they once were. No more chasing chickens for them, for they feared his terrible temper, which would often end in one taking a trip to the Bog more than once if they rubbed him the wrong way.

More so than that, the poor creatures worried for their King. He was progressively weakening, his immune system failed him more often than not, and more than a few fine lines were creeping their way onto his worry drawn face. They knew the antidote, and they knew that Jareth knew it too. He needed her, needed to speak with her, to hold her. If he were to do so, the goblins thought, drawing what little wisdom they had for reasoning, then he wouldn't be falling apart. It was taking it's toll on his part of the Underground too. If only he would speak to her and swallow his pride…

Still, silent and still, he perched there on the little oak branch adjacent from her window, close enough for him to hop onto the outer windowsill if he felt he needed to see her a bit closer. She tossed a bit beneath her blankets. It made her soft hair tumbled across her shoulder. Fluttering his wings he sighed within himself, letting out a small sorrowful hoot. It isn't right, it just isn't right. Why the bloody hell would he let some little…little _girl_ make him this brittle? No fae king should allow himself to become this way by some mortal teenager. IT was nonsensical. Foolish. Again his feathers ruffled, but this time in anger. For quite a while he sat there and simmered, gazing at her with vengeful eyes. How dare she…how dare she!

It occurred moments, minutes, maybe a half hour later to him…

Foolish. Bloody foolish! How dare…he. Yes, this he thought. How dare he let himself be so ignorant, so pitiful? How dare he let himself grow weak! There was only one obvious way to cure himself…

Her clock struck twelve p.m., a resounding chime singing through her otherwise quiet home. It came faint to her as she slept, cozily beneath her warm blankets, despite the chill weather outside. A few hours ago the snow had begun to fall, but she fell asleep before it did, otherwise she would've made a place at the window to watch it drift from the sky in little whirls.

When still, her sleep appeared peaceful on the outside, but within her mind, it was troubled. Every few minutes she would toss a bit, let out some inaudible sound. Unsure, she was so unsure. Of herself. Of _him_. Why, she would wonder, why won't he speak to me? Why won't he come? Surely, if not too pig headed, he would come without me beckoning him. These same kind of thoughts had slowly begun dwindling down her faith in his being smitten with her like she wanted him to be. Like she wished him to be. Still, within her soul, she managed to cling to a little slice of hope that he would show up to take her away.

Her wish, we are to find out, did come true that very night. Account holds that, while she slept so fitfully, he broke and gave in. By assumption, he, at the stroke of one a.m., crept to her side and whisked her away during the snowy night. We are not entirely sure if this is exact, but by the evidence left -- a clear glass bauble and her mother's pearl earrings-- we come to the conclusion that some magical entity did indeed steal her away on that snowy night of a full moon. What we hold to be invariably true, though, is that she indeed won back her faith, and he…well, he got what he wanted all along. Her belief and her love was received by him. You can hold true that magical things will undoubtedly happen once in a full moon. The rest of their tale…I think we can leave to the audience to figure out.

Author's Note: Back for a little while after that dreadfully long time away from fan fiction. I figured I'd let myself grow a little more before writing fan fiction for a better understanding of characters and words. So, what did you guys think? I feel it was a bit rushed, and could've been a bit longer, but I look forward to what you guys have to say! Constructive criticism is welcome!

Baaah! Ciao!


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